


dolcenera

by Maharetchan



Series: anime salve [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alana is the serial killer and Will is still Will, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Prison, Role Reversal, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1691405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maharetchan/pseuds/Maharetchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her arrest, Will visits Alana in prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dolcenera

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pondglorious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pondglorious/gifts).



> 1\. A few days ago, Julia mentioned wanting a role reversal au where Alana is the serial killer, but Will is still Will and wow it was a brilliant idea so I had to do something with it. If you ship it, I guess this could be read as Willana, but I wrote it as gen.  
> The title comes from an Italian song by songwriter Fabrizio de Andrè and it's impossible to translate in English, but the song it's beautiful and you can listen to it a [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZZoZ8eLWY4)  
> 2\. I have a tumblr ([samiferist](http://samiferist.tumblr.com/) ) so feel free to message me there if you feel like. I'd love it! ^^  
> 3\. My first language is not English and I don't have an English beta reader. So please excuse the grammar mistakes that you'll probably find.  
> 4\. I love comments!

Will Graham sits on the opposite side of the table and tries not to meet her eyes, his glasses blocking her gaze while he keeps staring at the cuffs around her wrists, safely anchored to the metal table under them, keeping her contained, keeping him safe from her. 

He's thinner and paler than she remembers, dark circles under his eyes and a defeated look on his face. It brings back memories, all about him does: from his plaid shirt, to his overused jacket, to the way his hands can't keep still and he's unable to focus on her. It hurts him to see her like this: a sand colored uniform, handcuffs, a armed guard outside the door, the terrible smell of prison, the knowledge of who and what she is that seems to hit him only now in all its force. 

Alana Bloom takes a deep breath and shifts as much as her restraints allow her to.

"Will you take a look at the file?"

"Will you talk to me if I say yes?"

"There is nothing to talk about."

His voice is tired and sad, far away from the sound she was used to hear: there's a new coldness in it, a distance he slips or tries to slip in every word. It makes her sad, but it's not surprising.

"Then why are you here?"

His face twists into a ugly grin, the closest she'll probably get to a smile. 

"Jack says you won't talk to him or Chilton. So he sent me."

Alana nods vaguely, remembers Chilton's visits and his increasing frustration towards her absolute silence. Will is different, he's personal, he's still more important to her than he should be: she still feels the desperate need to wrap a blanket around his shoulder, to keep him away from the ugliness of the world, safely away from the monsters lurking in the corners. 

The fault in that logic being that she's one of them. 

"I worry about you, Will. You don't look well."

He jerks his head up and stares at her with an incredulous look in his eyes. 

"You don't get to worry about me anymore, Alana. Not... Please just don't. I'm tired of lies and games. Please."

"You know I'm not lying, not on this, never on this."

Will lets out a humourless laugh. 

"I guess you've ran out of them."

Will cleans his glasses with nervous gestures, his hands trembling a little. He's the only person she'd feel some kind of guilt for, if guilt was a feeling she could still experience.

I never wanted to hurt you, she wants to say, but it'd be a lie and if there is one good thing being exposed and losing her freedom has done to her, is allowing her to stop lying. 

It's liberating, it makes her breathe more easily now, sleep better at night: she never dreamed of her victims, but she had countless nightmares about the people she had to lie to. 

"I never meant for you to survive all this, I wanted to spare you as much pain as possible. I tried to. I'm sorry I didn't manage to make things easier for you."

There are tears in his eyes while she says all this, Will bites his lips and his breath hitches in his lungs, making a broken sound that crushes her.

Alana remembers the knife entering his body, the surprise on his face suddenly mixed with pain and betrayal, his blood thick and wet and warm on her hands while it poured out of his body: she can still feel his hands clinging to her, trying keep his balance and can see him fall at her feet, bleeding all over the floor. 

She should have left right then, leaving him to bleed out to death, while she ran away, towards safety. But she couldn't move, listened to his desperate sounds of pain, looked at his hands trying to stop the hemorrhage, at his eyes that wouldn't let her go, that kept her locked and stuck where she stood. 

Alana can see herself kneeling down next to him, cradling his head gently into her lap, lowering her face on his to kiss him only once, a kiss that tasted of blood, death and regret. 

And then remembers calling 911 and waiting for them to arrive.

She can't help imagine what his scar may look like, what shape the mark she has left on his body has.

Will reads it all on her face, out of her heart, can feel what she feels and it must be just as crushing for him as it is for her; one single tear runs across his cheek, before he inhales deeply and rubs his eyes. 

Alana Bloom has stopped looking back a long time ago, rejected guilt and a part of her humanity by embracing a new and twisted morality: she has killed, mutilated, wounded and destroyed more lives than she cares to think about and with little after thoughts: and yet the sight of Will Graham cracked open, raw and exposed in front of her, his heart in his hands, makes her wish things had been different for the first time in a long time. 

She pushes her hand forward as much as she can, an invitation and Will stares at it for a long time, before looking back at her.

"You should have killed me. I wish you had killed me."

Alana smiles sadly, her heart aching in her chest. 

"So do I."

Will reaches out and takes her hand.


End file.
